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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28616532">Sea Breeze</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aptasi/pseuds/aptasi'>aptasi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Beaches, F/M, Fluffy, Ocean, Relationship in Development, Romance, Romantic Tension, Sexual Tension, descriptive, landscapes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:40:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,143</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28616532</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aptasi/pseuds/aptasi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little walk on the beach</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Moiraine Damodred/Thom Merrilin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sea Breeze</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I usually don't put this much fluff back to back, but I think we all need it</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A little walk by the shore it was supposed to be, a brief respite from all the politics. Thom had no idea how he had managed to suggest it, but there they were.</p><p>The prohibition on shop talk went unsaid, as did everything else. Instead they nodded to each other, standing a few span apart at the edge of the wharf. </p><p>Moiraine’s hair was loose and missing the chain with the stone. Her dress, still blue, looked inexpensive and light and had only slight straps for sleeves. To compensate she was wearing a tailored cover of semitranslucent breathable white fabric that looked almost like a man’s buttoned shirt. The effect was casual but rather stunning.</p><p>Thom had just worn his usual, minus the cloak. </p><p>They started walking along the docks, side by side, but not talking. People called around them, in various accents, a mix of practical instructions and profanity. The chatter blended together and camouflaged their silence into something comfortable. </p><p>To one side, the fishing docks fell off and a rocky beach replaced it. Some fishing lines and traps littered the shoreline, but overall it was deserted. The smell of seafood from the dock gradually diluted to nothing next to the briny scent of the ocean. </p><p>Thom wasn’t sure his knee could manage here. That side of his body twinged nervously. </p><p>Moiraine took his hand without a word and guided him along with her, unmentioning of the injury, though she must have noticed. She helped him navigate the twists and torgues of the rocks under his feet, eased them off the tender pad of his knee, as she gracefully guided him. Beneath her feet the roughest terrain became a ballet stage. </p><p>The click of the rearranging stones underneath their shoes continued, barely audible contrasted to the larger crashes of the waves. </p><p>They still had a little light left to them, and there was nothing so beautiful by the ocean as a dying day. The golds and reds of the setting sun made patterns in the water, glistening and moving, playing hide and seek in the froth. </p><p>The waves were rough now but the setting sun was bright. Together they flung watery baubles like a king’s largess, spheres of liquid gemstone. </p><p>Though the day was blazing hot, with sun to rival the other side of the Spine, the wind was delightfully cool. It blew Moiraine’s hair around catching on her cover and the side of her neck, in near liquid movement that reflected every hue of brightness.  </p><p>At some point, he realized the silence had become companionable. </p><p>They walked on, until the sounds of the city were muffled all together. He could hear Moiraine breathing in time with the waves. </p><p>Tangled webs of seaweed were washed up on the shore, in clumps of waxy green fading brown. They added a soft freshness to the smell of salt. </p><p>Around them tiny birds traveled between small clusters, alternating fast feet running and group flight. Small crabs dove and escaped in the sand, or became meals for larger gulls. </p><p>Moiraine hummed to herself as she walked, a beautiful pitch, clean like a tuning device. Thom recognized the melody, a sailor's love song, so beautifully transposed into an upper voice. </p><p>The crash of the waves covered the sound of her music periodically, making it fade in and out like a wistful thing. </p><p>The glare off the water brought his eyes almost to the edge of pain.</p><p>As they continued walking the path lifted away from the ocean, until they were standing at cliff view, looking out over the entire landscape. With the added elevation Thom could see far out to sea. He watched the fleets of fishing boats, clustered by shape, a type of boat for each style of fishing, as they passed so close to the sun it seemed they were swallowed by its light. </p><p>The waves cracked loud against the sheer rock face they stood at, kicking up spray so high the sunlight refracted and glowed spectral colors in it. </p><p>Moiraine's expression was unreadable as ever as she stared out at the fishing fleets, but he could sense, in the part of his gut song came from, that the woman was deep in thought. </p><p>Yet, they walked on until the landscape turned back to beach, to isolated sand hidden by the cliffs from even the longest eyesight from the city. </p><p>The waves here were long, devouring something like 500 span in a stroke. The result was a thin layer of water over most of the beach, like a frothing hissing pane of glass.</p><p>Thom reached down, holding Moiraine's steady supporting arm to do so, and took of his boots.  She slipped out of her own shoes without a word. </p><p>Though Thom had expected the water which reached almost to his ankles to be cold, it felt as warm as a bath. The sandy froth tickled at his toes as little currents flittered and flicked at him in unpredictable rhythm. </p><p>He could taste the warm wind. </p><p>“A bit more heat still than I expected.” Thom heard Moiraine say, and she was undoing the buttons on her coverup. </p><p>Thom felt his cheeks heat very hot indeed and looked out over the sparkling water. Some finned creature was jumping and frolicking out there.</p><p>“You are not a Borderlander.” Moiraine’s voice had a soft teasing quality. “You can look.” </p><p>The gilded light of the sunset sat beautifully on her as Moiraine folded her cover over her arm. Save the small straps, her shoulders were completely bare. </p><p>The salt in the air became overpowering. Thom was choking on the saline crystals. </p><p>Moiraine saw his reaction and smiled, which made both his knees go unreliable. </p><p>The woman actually spun around for him, tossing her head back, tracing a dynamic circle with her shining hair, and spinning water out in playful waves around her feet. Her neck and collarbone curled up gracefully, presented like a dancer's. She laughed like the metaphysical form of joy.</p><p>“You look beautiful.” He whispered. </p><p>Moiraine blushed but continued preening. </p><p>Her upper arm had one blue-tinged scar. </p><p>Moiraine saw where his eyes had landed. “Whitecloak arrow.” She explained. </p><p>“Sorry.” Thom muttered. </p><p>“No need to be.” Her voice was as warm as the breeze. “It was a long time ago.” </p><p>They started walking again.</p><p>Moiraine glanced at his hand, and then her own back. “You know, you can touch too.” </p><p>"Can I…" he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Really my dear?" </p><p>They started walking-wading again, held together with her folded into him. Her arms felt soft and tiny, but full of firm muscle. He could feel the steel under the silk. </p><p> "It is clear you can." she teased </p><p>Light but her laugh was enough to make him lose all his priorities. Drive a man madder than Saidin, Moiraine Sedai could, Thom warned himself with no intention to listen.</p>
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